The Inglorious Bamfords

Reformed Highway Robbers,

If ever there was a worse display of umpiring in recent history than in last Thursday's match between the Swans and Hawthorn, please let me know.
Swans were robbed blind; plain and simple.
What an absolutely appalling effort on the part of officialdom.
Chris Donlan, Luke Farmer, Shaun Ryan - we know who you are.
The Inglorious Bamfords.
Yet again, the whole shebang, shat me to tears.
The Stats Guru, who knows of these things, reminds me that not a single free kick was paid to the Swans in the second quarter of the match -- which turned out to be the pivot on which the game turned - and while the umpires tried in vain to switch-on late, the free kicks tally still finished at an unbelievable 15-9 in favour of the away side.
Sydney could not buy a free kick, getting just 4 to three-quarter time, compared to the Hawks 13, which were mainly in front of the big sticks.
Outrageous.
What's more, the Hawks were trying every trick in the book to bend, bust or just break the rules as much as they possibly could, and that didn't stop short of plain deception by having players running around in ever decreasing circles like chooks with their heads cut off, or just acting the goat, in what turned out to be a very successful bid to distract the attention-deficient umpires from their appointed task.
Oh no siree!
Hawthorn was putting it all on - head high tackles, illegal shirt-fronts, Squirrel Grips, Christmas Holds, out-and-out scragging, holding the man left, right, and centre, tripping, scratching, stomping, blatant pushes in the back, knees and elbows all over the shop in the scrimmages - the full range of filth - but they'd read the rule book don't you worry about that, and were smugly contented to get away with blue murder.
In a game chock full of niggle, it's a wonder there wasn't an all-in brawl.
Often wondered why there has never been a send-off rule for Unconscionable Conduct or repeated professional fouls in Australian Rules, as there is in just about every other code of football known to man.
Just as a shocking example, whenever Lance Franklin went anywhere near the ball, Hawthorn flooded the Swans forward lines and had about about five blokes on him, all tugging at his balls and trying to illegally hold him back to stop him from taking a trademark speccy.
And they succeeded beyond their expectations, all without any sanction whatsoever from the umpires, who in fact helped them out whenever they could.
Buddy went without a single goal.
Astounding.
Even Super Coach Horse, under the threat of a heavy fine, made some thinly veiled not terribly favourable comments about the standard of umpiring in the post match press conference, before going outside and shoving his head in a bucket of cold water to stop the steam coming out of his ears.
Suggested to My Spy at The Ground that the Bamfords should be lined up against a wall and shot at dawn the day after the Swans win the Grand Final, but he reckoned by short succinct message from a super-jampacked SCG to the bush telegraph machine in the corner of my loungeroom "shootin's too good for 'em".
Still, against these odds, the Swans have only suffered one woeful flogging [which most unfortunately was graced by my presence] in the entire season, with six games to go.
Adelaide 10pts.
Richmond 1pt.
GWS 42pts.
W.Bulldogs 4pts.
Hawthorn 5pts.
There are some fish that got away there no doubt, most notably the serial losers at Richmond, but the Swans are still sweetly placed in equal third...and under the Hare-Clarke-McIntyre-Duckworth-Lewis AFL finals system, the last thing you want to do is go top.
You are much better off finishing second or fourth, still getting the second bite at the cherry, and tossing a coin for all it matters for a home game.
The ducks & drakes starts now.
Throwing matches won't be uncommon.
Note from the team lists in the 'not playing after last week' box, Heeney the Cardiff Zuccini was "managed" out of the side a couple of weeks ago.
The strange looking pretty boy with the sea anenome on his head looked rather bashed up, but it appears you now no longer have to go through the charade of having "foot soreness" to take a breather for a couple of weeks - you can now just be "managed" in and out at the stroke of a coach's pen, and the AFL no longer seems to mind that yr not playing yr strongest team right through to the very end of the minor Premiership.
On that form in that game, Sydney and Hawthorn are the obvious grand finalists; Adelaide really being the only rival for The Flag, given they are due for a loss, and the Crows, like the Swans, have a saloon passage through to September.
The Pygmies will give it a red hot go, and good on 'em, we have soft spots in this western Sydney household for that old lunatic hard-nut Stevie J, and the Toby Greene kiddie, who can play.
The other teams currently in the top eight are too flaky for mine, and won't take to the blowtorch to belly treatment very well.
After missing the finals last year under unforseen unfortunate circumstances, Lance Franklin has a long memory, knows about atonement, and is leasuirely taking the whole season to warm up nicely; could win the Coleman Medal by and by, just because he knows he's No.1.
The is no man in the whole comp who wants to win the premiership more.
Watch him go "bang!" when the opening whistle sounds in the first prelim.
Bugger the Bamfords.
Buddy's victims will feel very sore and sorry for themselves as he boots a bagful.
Mark my words.
Enough said.

Meantime, over at the workingman's game, rugby league, The Mighty Tiges have rocketed up the 16-rung ladder from 12th to 11th on the back of the two premiership points guaranteed for just going and having Sunday lunch with your mum during the second bye weekend.
Let's face it...be a man about it - they are struggling up Shit Creek with the paddles floating downstream somewhere nearby - despite being a million dollars on paper.
Said it before, say it again.
The Coach Jason "Squeak" Taylor v Robbie Farah long-weeping sore for some entirely unknown reason has still been left to fester...so while the Best Leb in The Game was the starting hooker for NSW in all three games in the just concluded State-of-Origin series [QLD 2-1]; he can't get a full game and starts off the bench for Balmain, and yet never has a bad game at dummy-half.
And worst of all, why the contretemps?
Go figure.
The Balmain/Western Suburbs RLFC board of directors remains a dysfunctional shambles, who won't sack the coach at this late stage.
They also have the best full-back in the game, and possibly the half-back/five-eighth combo also, mercurial wingers and a workmanlike bunch of forwards, and yet find themselves completely nowhere.
WTF?
As the Stats Guru whirs the ababcus to find try to find out how on earth they can make the top eight, he rationally explains it's simply because the Tiges have been the very model of inconsistency this season:
WWLLLWLLWLWLLWBLWLB.
Apart from the season opening promise, they have never been able to string two wins together all winter.
To mix a metaphor, the conundrum in a kernel.
For eleven long years now; a difficult team to follow.
As The Philosopher would say "Lord, help us."